Contagion
by addisonzella
Summary: Spoilers through Season 10, "Babylon." Did anyone notice the two red marks on Mulder's shoulder when he looked in the mirror at the end of episode 10x5, 'Babylon? Perhaps they were welts from his "Fifty Shades of Bad" experience with Agent Einstein (ew). Or were these marks indicative of something else? My imaginings of what the Season 10 Finale has in store for us.
1. Chapter 1

_Did anyone notice the two red marks on Mulder's shoulder when he looked in the mirror at the end of episode 10x5, 'Babylon'? Perhaps they were welts from his "Fifty Shades of Bad" experience with Agent Einstein (ew). Or were these marks indicative of something else? My imaginings of what the Season 10 Finale has in store for us._

* * *

"Do you hear that?" Mulder looked towards the sky, cocking his head to the side. He shut his eyes and grabbed onto Scully's forearms with a vice-like grip.

Scully gave a small smirk. She was slightly amused by his performance and anticipated a corny joke.

Her eyes widened in surprise, however, when Mulder abruptly grabbed his temples and yelped in pain.

"Mulder?!" She tried to hold onto him but he turned away from her, gripping his stomach. He bent over at the waist and vomited onto the dirt road, splattering his shoes with his lunch.

"Mulder!" Scully was no longer amused but genuinely concerned. She leaned over him, her chest to his back. She placed one hand on his shoulder to steady him and with the other she rubbed circles on his back.

"Ahh," Mulder gasped for air as the pain in his head continued, unrelenting. It felt like someone was hammering into his scull. He spit into the dirt, took some steadying breaths, and slowly straightened. He felt Scully's gentle little hands steadying him.

After a beat, Scully wordlessly lifted one of his arms over her shoulder. It was an easy feat, given their height difference.

"Easy, Mulder. You're okay," She concentrated on annunciating in an effort to feign a sense of calm and soothe him.

"There you go," With an arm supporting his waist, Scully encouraged Mulder as she lead him back to his house. _Their_ house.

In her head, Scully rapidly cycled through various pathologies, to rule out possible ailments. Vomiting and orofacial pain could indicate multiple conditions. She thought of the acronym for stroke: FAST. Facial drooping, arm weakness, speech difficulties, and time. He had full control over his facial features and arms, so it was unlikely he had suffered a stroke. Aneurism? No, he hadn't lost consciousness. Meningitis? Scully moved her hand from his hip to stroke the back of his neck, feeling for stiffness. Finding no evidence of this, she sighed in relief.

Mulder gasped, still grasping his head: "Ugh, Scully, it hurts."

"I know, Mulder. You're almost there," Scully cursed herself for the trembling that carried in her voice. She lost her composure only when she was truly terrified that Mulder was in danger.

Groaning pitifully, Mulder allowed Scully to lead him up the porch steps and into the house. She navigated him to the couch and eased him down onto it.

Leaning over him and brushing the hair out of his eyes, Scully tried to comfort him. "Shh, deep breaths." She kissed him on the forehead and he flinched at the contact.

Scully bit her lip. Sensitivity to touch was not a good sign. She briskly stood and closed the blinds on all the windows, then walked into the kitchen and filled a bag with ice. She turned on the kitchen sink and filled a cup with water. She returned to Mulder, kneeling on the floor next to the couch so she could examine his face.

"Here's some ice, Mulder," Scully spoke softly so as not to aggravate his aching head any further. Mulder gave a shaky whimper when she placed the icepack on his forehead.

Scully's eyes teared up with tenderness for the man. How long had it been since she had been able to care for him? To touch his face? Of course, she wished it had been under better circumstances.

Suddenly, Mulder gasped and tried to sit up. Scully pressed her hands on his shoulders and tried to hold him down. "Shh. You need to rest."

"Scully, I—" Mulder flailed, trying to push her away. Scully did not budge, however, until Mulder heaved and vomited down the front of his shirt.

"Oh, Mulder." Scully was not expecting his stomach to rebel again. She rubbed his shoulders and stroked his hair.

"'M Sor-ry," Mulder managed a reply.

"Shh, it's okay." Scully used the sleeve of her blazer to wipe his mouth and brow. She reached down and squeezed Mulder's sweaty hand. "Let's get you cleaned up," she stated as she unburdened him from his puke-covered shirt. She balled it up inside out and tossed it onto the floor. She didn't have time for housekeeping right now. Mulder required her full attention.

It was then that Scully noticed two red welts above his right pectoral muscle. She felt dizzy with fear. A rash could indicate meningitis.

She stifled a gasp and asked him, "Mulder, what happened here?"

"Ughh," was all he could manage.

Nearly paralyzed by fear, Scully managed to reach behind his head to once again palpate his neck. Mulder groaned at the coolness of her fingers. His neck was still supple, not stiff. Scully exhaled slowly, relieved. That was a good sign; he likely did not have meningitis.

"I have some medicine in the car. I'll be right back, okay?" Mulder went limp and fell back completely onto the couch. Scully walked through the screen door, careful not to let it slam. Once outside, she sprinted to her car, now in full panic-mode. She grabbed her black doctor's bag out of her trunk, turned, and ran towards the house. She slowed her pace just enough to walk up the porch stairs and through the screen door as quietly as possible.

Scully returned to Mulder's side, sitting on the bit of couch cushion that was available by Mulder's waist. His ice pack had fallen from his forehead and she readjusted it. Then she reached into her medical bag and located syringes and two liquid bottles of medicine. With skill, she flicked her wrist to turn one of the bottles upside down and pushed a needle up into it. Once she had loaded two syringes, she tore open an alcohol wipe and spoke. "Mulder, I know it hurts, but I need you to turn over for me. I'm going to give you an injection." She didn't mention that she would be giving him two shots. He truly was an awful patient.

Mulder took a deep, steadying breath and turned away from her. He struggled to unbutton his jeans but his hands were shaking too terribly.

Scully gently but firmly grasped his trembling hands and pulled them from the front of his pants. "It's okay. Relax." Scully unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. For once, she was sorry that Mulder did not use this opportunity to crack a crude joke.

With great effort, Mulder raised his hips so she could slide the denim and his boxers down. Wordlessly, she swabbed the skin of his buttock with an alcohol pad, and Mulder gasped. He felt feverish and the alcohol was like ice on his skin.

Still holding his pants out of the way with one hand, Scully removed the plastic covering the needle with her teeth.

"Little poke," Scully barely gave Mulder any warning before she jabbed him with the needle. He winced. "This is Phenergan," she informed him as she pushed the plunger on the syringe. "It's an anti-emetic to ease your nausea."

He exhaled loudly as he felt another needle in his hip. "And this is acetaminophen and sumatriptan. The first should help with your pain. The sumatriptan should stop this migraine." .Scully bit her lip to keep it from trembling. At least, she hoped and prayed that this was only a migraine.

Carefully, Scully pulled Mulder's boxers and jeans loosely back up over his hips. With her hand, she applied a gentle pressure to his shoulder, indicating that she wanted him to roll over onto his back again.

Mulder was obviously still in pain, gasping for air with labored breaths. Scully leaned over him and murmured quietly in his ear, trying to calm him down. He felt her breath tickle his neck, a welcome but only slight distraction from his pain.

"You'll feel better soon," she stated. "Slow, deep breaths," she encouraged as she breathed in and out with exaggeration, trying to get him to mimic her.

After about fifteen minutes of agony, Mulder started to relax and drift into a fitful half-sleep. Scully thanked God in relief. She did not leave his side, but readjusted herself under his legs so that she could sit back onto the couch.

* * *

Another thirty minutes passed, and Mulder stirred. Leaning over him, Scully rubbed his shoulders and smiled at him. Alarmed, she noted that Mulder's lips had taken on a sickly pale color, and his eyes were red-rimmed. "Hey," she breathed. "How's the head?"

Mulder shut his eyes and took a steadying breath. "The head's better," he managed to say. "But I don't feel so good, Scully."

"Oh, Mulder. I know. I'm sorry." She reached to the coffee table and grabbed the cup of water she had poured earlier. "I need you to try to drink some water for me, okay?" He blinked in acquiescence. She softly supported the back of his head while lifting him up just enough to bring the cup to his mouth.

Mulder gulped the water down. "Slowly," Scully warned him. The last thing she wanted was for him to vomit again.

Scully turned and placed the cup back on the table when her cell phone caught her attention. A notification banner flashed across the screen, reading, "Breaking news: CDC reports hundreds of Americans fall gravely ill with severe head pain and vomiting." Scully stifled a gasp, bringing her hand over her mouth.

"Scully?" Mulder tried to lift his head. "What is it?"

In lieu of answering, Scully ran her tongue over her bottom lip and looked upward in an effort to keep the tears from falling down her cheeks.


	2. Chapter 2

"Scully?" Mulder struggled to sit up and tried to reach for her, but dizziness overcame him and he was forced to lie back down. "Scully, what's wrong?" He managed to choke out.

Scully stood up, her back to him. "I'm _fine_ , Mulder."

"Goddammit, Scully! Not now." His voice was frail but he still managed to spit venom with his words. "Don't shut me out now, of all times."

Scully stiffened at Mulder's harsh words. He was right, though. She couldn't keep this from him. As much as she wanted to protect him, he had to know. Slowly, Scully turned around, and Mulder was stunned into silence by the tears in her eyes.

Scully recited the CDC's notification from memory. "Breaking news: CDC reports hundreds of Americans fall gravely ill with severe head pain and vomiting." She stuttered over the words "hundreds," and "gravely ill."

Scully returned to her perch on the couch, and her piercing blue eyes met his forest green ones, which stood out vividly against his sickly, pale face. She and Mulder stared at each other for several long moments. They were interrupted, however, by the buzzing of Scully's cell phone.

She held the phone up to her ear. "Scully."

Mulder took comfort in the familiarity of Scully's voice, answering the phone curtly, as she always did.

"Tad," Mulder winced with jealousy as Scully greeted her caller. Why did Tad O'Malley have Scully's phone number?

"Yes, I saw the news report," Scully said as she glanced at Mulder. She adjusted her phone so that it was cradled between her ear and shoulder. Tenderly, she felt Mulder's forehead, gave him a weak smile, then pulled her hand away to reach into her medicine bag.

"I'm with him. He's…not feeling well." Scully couldn't bring herself to admit that Mulder had been taken ill, seemingly by the same sickness that was affecting hundreds of others across the country. Meanwhile, Scully unscrewed the cap from a bottle of ibuprofen and handed three red pills to Mulder. "Uh huh," she said, switching her phone to her other ear and shoulder. She helped Mulder sit up to swallow the pills.

"Jesus, Tad, stop." Mulder could overhear Tad interrupt Scully, speaking fervently.

Scully shook her head and absentmindedly stroked Mulder's arm. "Symptoms indicate that this is likely just a severe case of influenza. Yes, I know, but statistically, it's— Yes, I know…" Scully nervously pushed locks of her hair out of her face, then continued speaking. "By alerting people of an outbreak, the CDC is most certainly aiming to prevent further contamination." Scully paused for a moment to listen. "No. Absolutely not. That's ridiculous. That would be completely irresponsible! I can't—" Scully was silenced as Tad continued to speak. A look of blind fear suddenly overwhelmed Scully's face, which she quickly tried to extinguish for Mulder's sake. But it was too late. Her expression gave her away and told Mulder everything he needed to know.

Scully and Tad exchanged a few more impassioned words, and then she hung up. Sighing as she put the phone down, Scully could not face Mulder.

Mulder reached up to stroke Scully's arm. "It's bad, isn't it?" He whispered.

Sighing, she turned towards him. Scully could not lie to Mulder. She never sugarcoated the truth for him—not when he asked for it directly—and she couldn't start now.

"Apparently, there is an illness that seems to be affecting people across the country." Clearing her throat, Scully continued. "Reports of this have begun in the past couple hours, apparently." She paused, as she knew that what she had to say next added a whole new level of complication to the situation. "Many other countries have already closed their borders."

"So it's only affecting Americans?" Mulder asked.

"It appears so, at least for now. But we have no idea how long the incubation period is, or if asymptomatic carriers—"

Mulder interrupted her scientific ramble. "What did Tad tell you, Scully?"

"He-" Scully's voice broke as she endeavored to answer him. "He thinks this is a case of biological warfare against America. Apparently, people in every major US city have been stricken with a crippling headache, followed by a febrile condition." Scully cleared her throat and Mulder waited for her to continue.

When she didn't, he urged her on. "Then what happens, Scully?" His voice was icily quiet and terrifyingly calm.

Scully did not break eye contact with Mulder as she spoke, "Then, hallucinations. Seizures. Hemorrhage from the mouth, nose, rectum..."

Scully did not have to finish her sentence. He knew that these instances must end in death.

"How long?" Mulder asked. Scully looked away. She couldn't answer.

"How LONG do I have, Scully?"

Scully snapped out of her despair and was suddenly animated. "Your head is better now, Mulder, right?" She felt his forehead. "Your fever is breaking. We just need to keep you hydrated." Scully was speaking quickly, now. She leapt up and walked into the kitchen, refilling Mulder's cup of water. She spent several minutes digging through the cabinets. She yelped in delight as she found a plastic bag of saltine crackers and returned to Mulder's side.

"Here," she said, handing him the cup of water. "Take slow sips, remember? Do you think you could eat a few crackers?"

Mulder did not respond, and Scully wondered if he even heard her. She continued to hold the cup of water out towards him, finally bringing the rim of it to his chapped lips.

Mulder smiled after taking a sip. "I knew you'd come back."

Scully returned his smile. She did not know if he was referring to her simply leaving his side to go to the kitchen, or to the fact that she had moved out of their house a year and a half ago. She realized it didn't matter. She could never permanently leave Mulder, no matter how much she had tried to. When she was away from him, a dull ache slowly gripped her heart until it became debilitating. Her longing for Mulder always managed to bring her back to his side.

"Mulder, of course. I'll always come back to you." She cupped his reddened cheek. His fever had definitely lessened.

He smiled again at her, a strange look in his eyes. "I know that, Samantha."


End file.
